I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. “We won’t. . "What! you still hesitate! Will that rouse you, coward?" And she gave him a smart rap on the head. Leave the means to me.
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